Rats
by cleverun
Summary: Alternate Universe. Ever wonder what the life of a psychopath is like? This is beyond Death Note or Hannibal Lecter. When a boy genius loses his mind, no one is safe. Features swearing, sexual themes, and extreme violence.
1. Prologue

Hello, and welcome to Rats, a dark tale featuring Artemis Fowl II. Although Artemis may be a familiar character to you, this story is very different from others you've heard. Most people today know the story of how Artemis Fowl II had been the first human to have robbed the fairies of their gold, as it is the most famous account of him; but nearly none know of the other Artemis Fowl II, who had been in a very different situation. He did not kidnap Captain Holly Short at the age of twelve. He had not touched their gold. He had not joined forces with the fairies to save man and fairy kind. This Artemis Fowl was very different. Or rather, this Artemis Fowl was very unfortunate, to say the least. This Artemis may not have been as wise, intelligent, or confident as the popular one. But he was still a genius, and undoubtedly far more of a threat than the more commonly known one. A bold claim, but true nonetheless.

In this world, most people recognized sixteen year old Artemis Fowl II as a typical, cheery teenager. He did not wear tuxedos, other than his Saint Bartleby's blazer, nor was he pale. His expression was soft and his presence calming. In fact, the only thing that stuck out about the boy was that he always wore some sort of gloves, regardless of what the weather was like. But this was an oddity that never stuck out of crowds and was easily overlooked.

Yet, Artemis Fowl II most certainly was not an average teenager. It could at least be said that typical teenagers did not get themselves in deathtraps playing games with madmen. At least, not literally….

The following story is a very saddening and disturbing tale and is not for the weak-hearted. You have been warned.


	2. Prologue, Part II

The fresh, cold air of the surface never felt so good. I was almost grateful when my magic ran out a few hours ago, despite the narrowly avoided catastrophe back in Denmark. I could feel my muscles moan with exhaustion after years worth of non-stop missions. At this point, I would have been fine if my boss sent me on a mission to milk stinkworms. Flying under the full moon, breathing mildly polluted but non-recycled air, watching the green, rolling fields pass by beneath me-this was what I was born to do, and what my job had deprived me of for months. It's been so long that I almost forgot what it's like to be on the surface without an emergency every other second.

It began nine years ago. A colony of demons, the lost fairy race, spent centuries lost in time, protected in their spellbound island. When the magic protecting their haven finally fell apart, they were thrown from their sanctuary like gas from a nervous dwarf, scattering all over and under the earth. Although most of them either died in the vacuum of space or scattered across time in tiny pieces, there were enough of them to cause a major problem. Instead of spending several hundred years twiddling their thumbs, they've spent their time feeding their hatred for humans, planning a war they couldn't possibly win. The demons that survived went into an epic rage, killing every human they could find. For nine long, dreadful years, the Lower Elements Police, or LEP, have been hard at work capturing demons, rehabilitating them, mind wiping humans, hiding evidence, and preventing the discovery of the fairies by the humans. Even mud men, dull as they are, would probably notice a demon letting out a war cry and charging after him. It must have been the single most disastrous event in fairy history since the days of Frond, when we were thrown underground by the humans.

Putting these negative thoughts aside, I finally reach an old oak tree by the bend of a river. I lower my thrusters and land neatly on the ground. As I do so, I spot a figure in the river. It doesn't take long to realize it's a human cadaver. Disgusted, I was about to turn away when I noticed something odd. At first I think it' just the flow of the river, but it seems that the body's moving. The more I look, the more I'm sure: the man is still alive.

I'm a bit surprised when I entertain the thought of saving the man. A mud man. Not only does he belong to one of the most violent and destructive species on the planet, but if I saved him, I could risk him seeing me. After years of working my behind off trying to keep the people a secret from the mud men, saving this man could make all that effort worth nothing. In the end, he would only cause trouble.

I turn to the river and watch the man's movements slow. He seemed young and lean, but strong. The way he fought for life brought back memory of a surface mission I had been on, where I encountered a struck deer on a human roadside. I noticed that her stomach rippled oddly, and I immediately realized she was pregnant. I cut her open just in time to save the calf. The kicking and bucking of the drowning calf and the man were all too similar; it was the will to live. Was I really willing to let a living being die, right in front of me?

I can't believe I'm doing this. I remove my belt and water-sensitive equipment. Lowering my visor, I begin to wade through the water. The thermal reactors in my suit keep me warm from the icy Irish currents, so despite the bone-chilling temperature, I'm rather warm. After I'm waist deep, I plunge into the water, grateful that the current wasn't very strong. Thankfully, the man's close to shore, and soon I'm dragging him onto land. He's heavy; a full grown mud man, around his twenties. But I notice something more important: he had stopped moving.

I lift my visor and begin to resuscitate him. His mouth tastes like blood, and a shiver travels down my spine. Fairy intuition is never wrong-this man was not good news. As I pluck his nose shut and breathe into his mouth for the third time, I think to myself,_ it's a little late to turn back now_.

He begins to cough and splutter, so I step back from him a little. I try to shield when I remember that I don't have anywhere near enough magic to do so. There was just enough time to lower my visor again before his eyes open and land on me.

"Who are you?" he asked. I don't answer him. "Why did you save me?"

I decide to give him at least one answer before I leave. "I can hardly enjoy the scenery with a dead body in the river."

"You think this is a joke?" he snaps. Typical mud man. Save his life, and he still isn't grateful. I ask him what was wrong.

"You should have killed me."

I'm stunned. "Why?"

"I... I've done terrible things."

Suicide. Of course. "How terrible?"

I've managed to put him at a loss for words. He spent the next minute spouting incoherent babble, mixed with pleas to end his life. I quickly got tired of it and used my last dribble of magic to coax him with the _mesmer_. It's not much, but in his weakened mental state, it's just enough to work.

"Quiet!" I snap. "Listen to me. What did you do that was so terrible, your only option is suicide?"

The magic had calmed him dramatically; his voice was almost soothing. It made what he had told me over the next few hours all the more horrifying.

Author's Note: This is an Artemis Fowl AU (alternate universe) fan fiction. Many thanks to the-ultamite-fangirl (from DeviantART), my editor.

Warning: Rats contains violence (gore, torture, etc.) and sexual content (no sex scenes, only references). Read at your own risk.

I do not own Artemis Fowl or any of Eoin Colfer's characters. I do own Alexander Starinov, and others that will be mentioned later.

Any flames, critiques, suggestions, etc. are welcomed. If I got a detail wrong (ex. "Artemis was born on the 7th of January!" In reality, he was born September 1st), corrections are greatly appreciated.

Updates will most likely be very slow and scarce, due to school.

****Enjoy.


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